Plainsong
by Zighana
Summary: Michael gets a wedding invitation from an old friend. Based off SpellboundWinter's Kafkaesque and Do Goths Stare At Clouds? HenriettaxButters, one-sided Curlygoth/Henrietta, angst! Gift for SpellboundWinter!


**Plainsong**

_A gift for SpellboundWinter. Thanks for writing Kafkaesque! :)_

His fingers tremble as they hold that damning white envelope. He looks at the words over and over again, trying to will them away.

They stay there, stubborn and mocking.

He had just gotten it yesterday, but he can't will himself to stop obsessing over it. Every letter, every number, every decoration on the paper, he memorizes.

_You are cordially invited to..._

The first few letters make him sick. _Cordially Invited _sounds so impersonal, the kind of thing you'd say to an acquaintance, not a friend who's known you for almost two decades. Insulting.

_Henrietta and Leopold Stotch's..._

That gives him pangs of anguish. He hadn't quite gotten over her betrayal to the group for going out with that...strangely naive blonde. Sad to say Michael still has feelings for Henrietta; her choosing Sunshine over him makes him feel slightly inadequate. But it's the last word, that last _fucking _word, that makes him want to vomit and destroy that piece of paper.

_Wedding._

_Wedding. _Permanent_._ Forever bound till death do you part in the eyes of God. An eternity of love and the institution that markets and cheapens the concept.

Henrietta's...going to be a married woman.

It's astounding how ten years could change someone.

Michael could never imagine Henrietta getting married; the equivalent would be her grabbing a poor bastard by the neck and say, "We are together forever until the world swallows us whole and we'll be gang-banged by demons."

That was the funniest Christmas Eve Michael ever had in a long time. To this day his Uncle Bruce will never look Henrietta in the eye without looking mortified.

But Henrietta is getting _married_; Henrietta, in a white dress, beautiful make up, and hair shrouded in a lacy veil. Her dark brown eyes waiting as her groom comes to bask in her beauty...

He wanted himself to take Butters' place.

He knows it's wrong, to have jealous feelings instead of happiness for a friend. He knows he should just shrug it off, to throw the envelope in the trash and pretend he had never gotten the letter. That route would be so much easier, instead of putting himself through such agony over that damning paper. But he knows Henrietta will know he's lying. At least, that's what he'll tell himself.

He goes to work the next day, working a dead end job at a coffee shop for a pimply faced asshole who never understood the concept of personal space. He's always there, breathing down his neck and touting his power over him while Michael makes coffee for another asshole customer who came there for hipster cred. To say he hates his job would be an understatement.

He couldn't believe his college years have gone to waste; the economy no longer has valued careers for writers and philosophers anymore. He remembered showing his majors to a workforce agency and they laughed in his face. He was better off following his mother's wishes and became a doctor.

So as punishment for putting his parents in thousands of dollars in debt, he's forced to live in a shitty apartment and working to pay the bills, surviving off the leftover cash in his trust fund. Needless to say, this isn't the life he wanted for himself at 28.

He imagined a cozy apartment decorated in rich reds that make it warm and inviting. Posters of The Cure and Siouxsie and The Banshees would be framed and plastered in his kitchen. All of his friends would toast to his success as a writer and they'd drink to his career.

His thirties are just around the corner. Thirty is a depressing age; it means your youth is forever gone, you have no valid excuse for rash decisions and thriving off impulsiveness. To reflect on what you've accomplished when you were in your twenties and to see if your life is worth living. Looking back, Michael realizes he's done nothing worth mentioning. He's single, with health problems earned from a consistent diet of coffee and cigarettes, and now has a nameless existence known as Michael.

Henrietta, in hindsight, is happy and married, with a successful job writing plots for porn.

Firkle is about to go to college to study Criminal Justice and become a Forensics analyst.

Pete is working at a radio station broadcasting his beliefs and theories and gets paid for it.

Even Butters has a job as an actor for his Professor Chaos persona, playing the role for a kids' show.

Its safe to say everyone around him is doing better than him and is happier.

The reflection depresses him even more.

When he got home, he looks at himself in the mirror. Same physique, same curly hair in that hairstyle, eyes remain droopy and sleepy from genetics and watching too much Peter Murphy. Same dead look in them all those years ago.

He still debates the question: to go or not to go? Part of him doesn't want to. One reason is simply because he despises weddings: the scratchy suit, the boring ceremony, the disgusting proclamations of love Michael knows is fake and will only last 2 years, if they're lucky. The corny dance, the sugary cake, the bratty child who's the ring bearer or flower girl, throwing dead plant sex organs left and right while morons coo and aww at the supposed cuteness. The awful vows that take forever, the ear raping love songs, sittng in that uncomfortable chair while a priest goes on and on about religious allusions and hymns. The memories of all the weddings he's forced to attend makes his skin crawl.

The other reason is it reminds him of a high school reunion; knowing Butters, it's possible half the classmates of South Park Elementary might attend and brag about their lives after high school and beyond. Some might be rejects like him. He'd probably smoke pot with Kenny during the cheesy dance while Stan and that fake Wendy look disdainfully at him for living. He never liked Wendy...

The last one is, he doesn't want closure.

Going to that wedding, seeing Henrietta happy and married, will only force Michael to acknowledge that it's time to move on. The past is the past, it's time to live in the present. He wants to forget the present for a while. He wants to live in Henrietta's room like old times, smoking clove cigarettes and reading poety while Alien Sex Fiend plays in the background. He wants to be 11 again, hanging with his friends in the back of the school, smoking and looking down on the conformists who live life the way society wants them to. The past is so much better than his present, possibly his future. The past is where he could covet Henrietta while lying on her bed, safe from prying eyes. Where he could leave to college, knowing his friends will wait for him while moving on. Where he was needed.

Now he's unsure of who needs who now.

He finally sucks it up and tells himself he's going. He's not doing it out of willpower or pride. He'll do it, as a final favor for her. He will do it for her.

The wedding is nothing like he'd expected; it's actually decent. Everyone's having a good time: dancing, talking, eating. He never thought he could see Cartman dance so hard in his life. The vows were genuine and creative, the love between Henrietta and Leopold is real and evident. The ceremony is simple yet elegant, a mix of gothic and traditional gives the place a memorable feel. Mr. and Mrs. Stotch sit in the corner, watching the activities with a scowl on their faces. Seems Leopold put his foot down when it came to Henrietta. Good for him. Henrietta's parents look happy, cheering on their daughter as she chases her husband with cake. The girls cheer when Leopold gets a face full of cake, the gasp when he splatters his wife with cake also. The newlyweds laugh and kiss, earning cheers from everyone. Michael sits in the background, watching the spectacle, feeling content. Everyone is feeling good, feeling happy.

Most importantly, Henrietta is happy.

That's all it matters.

After the wedding, he finds Henrietta and congratulate her.

"I'm surprised you showed up. I thought you would bail."

He wanted to correct her, but they both knew that it was true. He would've, he could've, but he didn't.

"I didn't want to miss you becoming a married woman, now would I?" He replies wit a smirk. Henrietta chuckles and stands beside him.

"Would you like a dance before I go?"

"I'd love to."

He takes her hand and pulls her to him as they reached the dancefloor. The Cure's Lullaby is playing in the background. The duo are hit with nostalgia.

"Our favorite song," they said in unison, laughing at the memory.

Henrietta looks t Michael, biting her lip and looking worried.

"Look, about what happened at the graveyard..."

"Save it. What's done is done."

"Butters makes me happy and if you don't like it..."

"There's no problem with me. As long as he makes you happy I don't care."

"I'm sorry."

"I'm sorry too."

Michael said it more to himself than her. Fascination Street is playing and it fills him with anxiety. So many unanswered questions and yet there's nothing on the tongue.

"Do you still..." Henrietta trails off.

"Yes," he answers, burying his face in her hair, hiding his shame.

"You have to move on, Michael. You have to stop living in the past. When you left, I was all alone. I needed you to make me strong. Now, I know I have to be strong on my own."

"What are you saying?"

You need to be strong, Michael. Stop living in the past and make something out of your shitty existence. I know I did." She smiles a sad smile.

"Tell that boss to fuck off. Move on and start living. Start over and work on your life, get it to the way you want it. Who cares if it's conformist? As long as you're happy, who gives a fuck? It's time to say goodbye to the past and work on the present. Understand?"

Michael nods solemny into her hair. This is the closure he needs, he initiative to move on.

"Thank you," he whispers in her ear, "Guess it's time to say goodbye, hmm?"

"See you in the funnies, Michael."

* * *

><p>He leaves the wedding shortly and sits in his car for the next half hour. It's time.<p>

He looks at the photos of him and his friends at Firkle's graduation and sighs. He rips each photo out and tears it to shreds. He rips off the trinkets he had from his middle school years with frustration. He screams and yells over his broken dreams and shattered ideology. His anger gives to sadness, and he cries. He cries over his life, his depression, and for strength.

He will start over.

He will quit his job and start looking for a real one.

He will pay off his debts, get the apartment he's always dreamed of.

He will find a girl that he will love unconditionally.

He will get married.

He will have kids.

But most of all...

He will be happy.

All for Henrietta and for his past.

He drives the car into the darkness, The Cure's Untitled blasting in his car.

And for once, he feels free.

~Fin~

**AN: Thanks for reading! If you guys are unsure of what's going on, I recommend you read SpellboundWinter's Do Goths Stare At Clouds and Kafkaesque. It could make good sense. It's a continuation of her stories. I hope she likes it. SpellboundWinter, thank you for reading my work and being the coolest writer and friend ever! Thank you! :)**


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